


Cold

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, M/M, Retirementlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was cold that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

It was cold that night. They scuffled past one another through the flat before settling for one last round of tea. 

 

John recalled the conversation, something of buying a bee vase and going to see Lestrade. It was content, the both of them, like always. However, when they were ready for bed, Sherlock put their cups in the sink and lead John into their bedroom with a light kiss to the head. 

 

John loved following behind Sherlock, and not in the usual sense. It was because of the grey streaks that were more prominent in the back than front. While he was long past grey hair, Sherlock's took longer to convince. 

 

The view wasn't half bad either. 

 

Folding back the bedspread on the bed's left side, as always, Sherlock led John to the bed, sat him down and pulled off his jumper and jeans. He whispered an endearment into his ear before sliding into bed on his own side, toeing off his socks. 

 

That night, John went straight to sleep instead of reading or blogging, but not without a good night kiss. 

 

Sherlock hummed at him happily, then curled underneath the covers, facing away on his side. 

 

… 

 

It was cold that morning. 

 

John doesn't remember much of it anymore, no matter how bad his nightmares get. Because that morning when he turned to wake his partner up for another quiet day, Sherlock didn't respond. 

 

He was warm still, face still content. He had passed away in his sleep. 

 

John remembers Greg coming to the scene, long retired but receiving a call nonetheless. He tried to console John who had to be torn from the scene, who had broken their left over dishes in the sink, who had lost his lover. 

 

John remembers it well, actually. He remembers all of it. 

 

He knew the second he looked over, that Sherlock wasn't there, that he was empty. Yet, still, he leaned over, and kissed that cheek like always before losing it. He cried, he still cries. 

 

John goes outside onto the doorstep, sits in the rubbish chair, at early hours in Sherlock's old coat or dressing gown.... 

 

Just to forget how cold it was.


End file.
